


The True Nature of Procrastination

by sdlucly



Category: Switched at Birth (TV)
Genre: M/M, pre slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:09:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdlucly/pseuds/sdlucly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that he likes leaving his homework until the very last minute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The True Nature of Procrastination

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 1x04. Written back in 2011.

It's not that he likes leaving his homework until the very last minute. It's not, not really. It's mostly, that, well, he tends to do that. But at the end Toby always does his homework, never mind if he has to stay up until four in the morning before crawling into bed for three hours before being very rudely woken up by Bay (it had only happened three times, not that Bay would ever let him forget it).

So it's a little after midnight (a lot, almost one thirty in the morning, not that he's checking or anything) and he's half way through his Calculus homework, and he hasn't even started his 5,000 word paper on a Latin-American poet (he had chosen Pablo Neruda, only now that he's gone over his work, he's kinda worried about what he'll write), of which he has to present an advance of, supposedly, tomorrow. He's seriously thinking about saying that, what, his computer crashed? No, well, something better, and ask for an extension and then he can do it tomorrow afternoon (or this afternoon, whatever), so, yeah.

He rubs his eyes with the back of one hand, reaching for his cup of coffee. Only it's empty.

He sighs, rubs his eyes again with both hands. Yeah, the paper on Pablo Neruda? Totally not happening.

God, he's so tired. He was supposed to start Calculus over the weekend, but then the fundraiser happened and he had even told himself he'd start it right after everyone left, which then turned into almost midnight because he was really really trying to get to first base with Clover, one of Bay's more gullible friends, only turns out she's not as easy as he would have believed.

Well, at least the concert/gig/whatever was ... well, interesting was the understatement of the night, wasn't it?

Toby can't help but smile, grin a bit because, man oh man, could Emmett play! Way better than that idiot Matthew, because only he could get grounded the night before a presentation, and then not even find a way to talk his mom into grounding him ten more days (hell, Toby would have offered a whole two weeks!) if she just let him do this gig and then get back home. And they haven't really talked about it, Wilke and him (they might have to talk Erika into it, but she's pretty zen when it comes down to members of the band, as long as nobody messes with her keyboards), but he knows his boy, has known him since they were like four, so yeah, if they can find a way to talk Emmett into playing with them as a regular (and yes, talk into, for sure, because he knows that he didn't exactly made a good first impression on Emmett), then awesome, Matt is out and Emmett is totally in.

He frowns, clicking on a new tab for the web browser. Google appears and next thing he knows he's looking for an ASL page and clicking into the first one he sees. He finds a link to a dictionary and searches for awesome, only the word is not there. What? There's no awesome? What the heck? He could have sworn--

Then he remembers, or thinks he remembers, maybe he said great? He clicks on the G and goes down the list, and yeah, there it is, GREAT.

Both hands up, palms out, first head high and then shoulder high. He tries it once, and then a few more times, just for kicks, and thinks it's kinda great in itself, that he knows a new word. No, not a new word, an old word, but in a new language. It's not as hard as French (he really sucks at it), or as weird as Spanish (everyone always says that they only need to learn enough Spanish to say "can you clean my room next?" which it's stupid and moronic but he doesn't say that, just thinks it), but it's still another language. And now he knows a word.

Great, he thinks, does the sign as he thinks it.

"Great," he says out loud, does the sign and grins to himself.

He looks down at his homework, glances at the clock (twenty to two) and thinks, oh, fuck it, and closes the notebook and the laptop and shoves everything together, just so he doesn't forget anything tomorrow in the rush to get it all into his backpack.

He crawls into bed, thinking that he'll figure out what to say to his Calculus teacher (at least he got 3/4 of it done) and to his Literature professor (my laptop got fried sounds like a strong possibility) and thinks, sleepily, _Great_ , doing the sign even as he's turning around in his bed, pulling the covers over his shoulders. Great.

***

So after a promise of sending the one fourth of the Calculus homework he didn't get to finish today (today means before midnight and it's only ten thirty, so he's good), Toby's finishing it, pretty much within the timeframe. Kinda. Maybe.

So that's good, all in all, and he talked with Professor Torres, he's got until Wednesday to present his advancement, which, yeah, also good (he can't change Pablo Neruda, he knows, he checked, damn it).

He's just about to start going over Calculus one last time, just in case he missed something, when he thinks about Wilke, and ergo Emmett. As predicted, Wilke said yes, which, yeah, totally knew he would. Now, well, now the tough part comes . Talking to Emmett.

Well, talking is not exactly the right word, more like signing and even that is pushing it (he knows great and that's it, so far). He could, of course, ask Daphne to translate but he doesn't like that, depending on someone else when he wants to talk to Emmett and not Daphne. But it's stupid to think he's going to get any more conversational when it comes down to ASL before the weekend. So, yeah, Daphne.

He clicks on the browser once again, goes to the ASL page and goes to Conversational Dictionary now, because, yeah, better. Figures General can work, and yeah, there it is, _Hello._ Such an easy word, really, hello. He probably knows how to say it in at least three languages, not counting English (bonjour, hola, ciao in Italian, which is weird because he once heard that it sounds more like bye than hello, though he has no idea where he heard that) but ASL is not one of them.

It's not difficult, not really, only the woman in the video does it too fast so he has to slow it down, then pause it to make sure that she's touching her chin with her thumb. Okay, so palm straight and out, thumb against the chin and then raising the hand, kinda like a Hitler move. Okay, he can do that. He does it once and then a few more times, in case he forgets, but man, if he has to learn each and every word, this is gonna be worse than their parents expecting them to finish school with conversational French (because, yeah, so not happening).

He checks the pages again, there are English idioms. A bunch of them. Way too many for him to learn. Things like beats me, which looks weird, like a weird shrug. A shrug with a tap of his fingers (straight palm, because maybe if the palm is curled it means something entirely different) against his right cheek and then turning the palm over and holy shit, he thinks, covering his eyes with his hands, fingers into his hair, he's never gonna get this. Not really. Not conversational enough, always a word here and there that he doesn't know, can't know and he won't be able to talk with Daphne, not unless she's actually speaking like she does, even in her Darth Vader voice, and worst of all to Emmett. Fuck, he's screwed.

***

On Wednesday, as he's rushing Bay out the house unless she wants to have to ask one of their parents for her ride (mom doesn't like it when both of them take their cars, it's not good for the planet and all that crap, so they carpool at least three days a week) when he notices Emmett, parked right outside the guest house, waiting for Daphne.

Toby still has his messenger bag across his chest and a book in his hands and his keys in his other hand and he just stands there, looking at Emmett for a second. He'd call to him, only. Yeah.

Emmett looks up towards him for a second, and Toby doesn't know if he's actually looking at him or just in the general direction but he doesn't care. He waves, to Emmett, just a flick of the wrist and the fingers and Emmett stares back at him. Toby would laugh, only it's not funny. Emmett seems surprised. Well, good, right? Yeah, good.

Toby grins, can't help not to, and waves again, and this time Emmett does wave back.

Score one for Toby! Yeah!

He's still grinning when Bay pushes past him and asks what the heck is taking so long and that if they are late she's gonna make sure mom knows it was his fault and not hers, she's waiting for him for once.

Toby answers back, tells her that next time he's leaving without her, nevermind she's his sister, says even as he walks around the car towards the driver's seat. "Hey, you're not even really my sister", he says with a grin.

"Ha, ha, ha," she says, and man, that joke is never gonna get old.

By the time he gets the keys into ignition and looks up, he can only see the tail of Emmett's bike, Daphne's back as she has her arms around him.

***

On Thursday, Wilke asks if he's told Emmett about wanting them in the band.

Toby looks down at their notes for the Physics lab. He could tell Wilke that it's not like he's the only member of the band, that they should tell Emmett together (only that'd be ten times worse, fifty, a hundred ) but that's stupid and just an excuse. And he could talk to Emmett. Emmett does, after all, read lips, and he manages, Daphne said, but he knows it's not polite to talk about someone in third person (like they weren't there, like Emmett hadn't been there, god, what an idiot!) and he's not stupid. He knows Emmett didn't like his shoes. Not even close.

"Yo, Toby?"

Toby looks up, and Wilke is looking at him, waiting for an answer. Toby swallows. "I'm gonna tell him this weekend," he says and Wilke nods and he thinks, _I'm fucked._

***

It isn't until Friday night (afternoon, after six, he should be about to leave to Matt's because even though Wilke and him told him he was out of the band, he took it good and still invited them over to finish their Wii championship) that he sees Emmett pulling over again into their driveway, so he runs down the stairs and out of the house. He pauses by the French doors because Daphne is not out yet and he can't really talk to Emmett without her, which is gonna just suck in so many levels.

He doesn't know how to do this, because he's never done this. Never gone out of the range, out of normal and hearing range. He's never... it's not what he does, he thinks, bitterly. It's what Bay does. Because if he had been the switched one, if it had been him with a different bone structure and darker hair and eyes, he never would have questioned it. He would have taken mom's explanation (my grandmother was Italian, so pathetic, now, that they know the truth) and gone with it, lived with it, never asked the right question at the right time, nevermind what the stupid school blood test said. 

Because that's not him. Because he's the quiet one, the responsible one, the good one. He gets good grades and doesn't get called into the Principal's office, he doesn't spray paint the streets and walls (Bay must think he doesn't know, but he does, because watching and seeing is what he does, and seeing his sister with paint in her fingers and in her car's door handle and shapes and forms left behind in the back seat is what he saw, weeks ago), never talks too much or says too much, he was never a picky eater even when they were just toddlers. Because drama was always Bay's department. Always wanting and seeking attention, since she was a little girl, and maybe that's why he's the quiet one, because he doesn't know how to be anything else, anyone else. Someone was supposed to balance it out, and it had to be him.

Maybe if they hadn't screwed it up in the hospital, if Daphne had been his sister (quiet, like him, in another way, easy going and so calm and collected and not a drama queen, not at all) maybe he would have been able to be someone else, something else.

But that's it, even then. He might not be the one to push the boundaries beyond what they are, but god, he wants this. He wants this difficulty, this complication, he wants to be loud, for once. He wants to be loud in the deafening silence.

When he sees Daphne going down the stairs and towards Emmett, Toby runs.

"Hey," he says, calls out for them, but of course they don't turn. Of course. 

He pauses for a second, because this is it, this is where it all turns around, goes wacky beyond belief, this is the second before the blood test. He can still go back.

He lifts an arm and waves it around, and he knows he must look pretty stupid (powering through, though, right?) but doesn't care, not right now.

Daphne frowns but looks at him, before tapping Emmett on the shoulder. Emmett turns around and he sees Toby, Toby knows that Emmett sees him, and then Emmett rolls his eyes.

The smile on Toby face freezes for a second, just a second, then he takes in a deep breath and closes the distance between the three of them.

"Hey, Daphne," he says, because she can read his lips and she's the nicest of the three, probably, right now.

"Hey," Daphne says, and just as Toby is turning around to look at Emmett, right at Emmett, he's signing something that Toby is certain it's an insult.

Before he loses his never, he signs one of the seven words (great, hello, bye, god, okay, guitar and band) he's learnt this week. _Hello,_ he signs, right palm out, tip of the thumb against the chin and then raising the hand, like a Hitler move.

Emmett blinks, and he's taken back (100% certain, no doubt there, good, perfect, great!) that Toby knows that word, knows anything at all in ASL probably. Then again, he has no idea that Toby had to bookmark the ASL pro page, ended up putting it in the toolbar.

He hesitates before signing _how are you?_ because he isn't sure if he'll get it right (might as well go for broke, right?), and after a second he does the curling of the hands, points at Emmett with his right finger and then kinda shrugs, like a question.

Emmett is still looking at him but Daphne is smiling, big and wide, happy, like Toby has given her a present she wasn't expecting. And maybe she's kinda right, too.

He's still looking at Emmett, because he knows he screwed up that time, and the time after that, and the time after that. He knows he's been doing nothing but screwing it up but he wants to get it right, this time around.

He smiles at Emmett, looking right at him, and it takes Toby a moment to notice how blue Emmett's eyes are, how bright. He doesn't think he's ever looked right at Emmett this long, at all.

"I want to ask you a question but I can't sign," Toby says, still looking at Emmett, at bright blue eyes that suddenly narrow (either Daphne is signing on the side, not probable, because Emmett hasn't broken eye contact so far, or he's reading Toby's lips, not that Toby minds). He smiles. "So, do you mind if she interprets?"

Emmett's eyes are still narrow, and still blue, but he tilts his head, like he's considering. Toby wants to turn around and ask Daphne if Emmett is mad at him but man, talk about impolite (Emmett is there, and the problem is not that Emmett's deaf, is more like Toby is ASL impaired), and he's supposed to be getting it right this time around, right?

Finally Emmett does a sign that Toby recognizes, _It's okay_ , with the right hand curled against his right shoulder and then his index finger straightening. Even before Daphne says the word, Toby's smiling (great!).

"Wilke and I talked--" Toby starts, eyes on Emmett, eyes always on Emmett (and it's not so difficult now, doesn't know why it was before, why it ever was), "and Mike is good" (yeah, sure, good, but not you, you're better, and you hadn't spent two days a week for about four months practicing in our garage), "but we know you're way better than him."

He pauses, stops, and Emmett has turned his head a bit, again, eyes not quite narrowed but more like calculating, and he wants to ask (god, how he wants to ask, all he wants to do is ask, a million questions that have no answer, or have one too many) what it is Emmett's thinking, just how much he hates Toby and if there's anything at all that Toby can do to get a fresh start.

It's gonna be difficult, a pain, because even though Erika doesn't mind, neither of the three know how to sign and Emmett doesn't make it any easier by speaking and Toby can see tons of note pads in his future (must remember to go to the store and get some, small enough that they can fit in the back pockets of his jeans, big enough that aren't like post its) just to make it easier for them all. It's gonna be complicated and difficult and it will probably be one more thing that their families fight about (bicker, not quite scream because his parents know how to fight without making a sound and Regina does know how to scream on low decibels) and one of them is going to get grounded (probably him, maybe, or Bay, somehow), and Daphne probably won't have anything bad to say about it and Regina will be on his side and Bay will make it about her.

"We, the band, Wilke and I--"

In his life, in his family, it has always been about Bay. For once, Toby wants it to be about him.

Toby smiles, can feel the muscles on his face contracting, but it's not a good smile, it's strained when it shouldn't be. It's difficult when it's just starting. 

"I want you to be in the band."

Emmett doesn't say anything (not that Toby was expecting him to) and Toby is still looking at him when he signs something, fingers moving fast, and the only thing he can see is Emmett's index finger flipping at his own chin, the rest of his fingers curled, thumb straight out.

Toby blinks, turns to look at Daphne who is still smiling, but not as much, kinda sad actually (worried, perhaps? He thinks he can see his mother's worried look in Daphne's eyes, but he isn't sure), and can't help but ask, "what, what did he say?" and then snorts, closes his eyes in anger at himself (and he had been doing so well) , turns to look at Emmett and asks him point blank, "what did you just say?"

He hears Daphne's voice (not gonna turn, because the second he turns, he forgets it's Emmett he's talking to, not Daphne), saying, calm as you please, "he's asking if you're being serious?"

He knows Daphne's editing, she always does, and he's suddenly tired of it. He turns around, looks at her because this is with her, not with Emmett. "No, what did he say, exactly?" He glances at Emmett again, at the raised eyebrow and the sneer in his lips. "I know you're not that polite--" and that gets him a laugh, short, more like a chuckle, or a weird snort (and he's putting that in the win column, thank you very much) , "and that you don't like my shoes, so I want to know what you said, exactly, verbatim."

There's a pause and even Emmett glances at Daphne, and then she's saying, "Okay. He said, _are you for real, Toby?"_

It's the last word that catches him by surprise.

"Is that my name?" He asks Emmett, because he wants to know, because he needs to know. "Is that how you sign my name," he says, jerks his head in direction of Emmett's face, his chin and his fingers.

Emmett pauses, thinking, calculating (and a part of Toby can't help but think that Emmett evaluates every insult he'll throw at Toby, probably more than he does with anyone else), before he nods, and does it again: the curl hand inwards, index finger and thumb straight, index finger flicking against his chin, quick and sure.

That's his name. That's my name. Toby.

"What does it mean?" Because he read that you don't really have signs for names, but it's a word that represents a name, a word given, assigned.

Emmett smiles then, the first smile Toby has seen on him, because of him, and Toby smiles back, and even if the name is an insult, Toby thinks he'd take it.

Emmett does it again, the sign, and Toby copies it because he can't not.

"Red," he hears Daphne say, and Toby nods, because good, okay, that works. Red is a word that can describe him, fitting him like loud does Bay, and happy does to Daphne.

He nods, does the sign himself. Smiles.

He's looking at Emmett when he says, "yeah, I'm for real. Totally." He pauses, and Emmett presses his lips together, into a thin line. Toby has never seen anyone do that. "Think about it, and let me know."

He figures, he should quit while he's ahead, so he smiles, bright and happy because there was no guttural no (and that's always a win), takes a step back, waves to both of them and leaves. 

When he's back in his room, phone vibrating on the desk where he left it when he noticed that Emmett had arrived (probably Wilke asking him where the heck he is, or Matt asking to confirm that they are going), he stands there for a second, and does the sign of his name. _Red._

***

Between the Literature paper he couldn't put off any longer (Neruda hates him, he thinks, pretty sure, Neruda just hates him), the big physics project (35% of the grade is riding on this paper, and it's a good thing he got Tatiana in his group because she likes doing things a certain way and doesn't mind when Toby actually wants to put a thought into the mix, she's not that much of a dominatrix as Barbara for example) and Wilke bugging him about the band, the future of the band and if the band actually had a future (of course he asked if Toby had told Emmett, and he didn't have to lie much because, yeah, he told Emmett and he is waiting for an answer, only Emmett didn't say he'd give him an answer whatsoever, but, nevermind) the weekend goes between a blink and the next. When he notices the time, it's almost ten and he's just chatting with Matt about the final Literature paper they have to do (based on a Latin American book, whichever, your choice) when he hears his phone ping.

He picks it up and clicks on the new message. It's from a number he doesn't recognize, doesn't have in his contacts. Weird.

_The answer is yes. Just name where and when. Emmett._

Toby can't help but grin, bounce a bit on his seat because man oh man, this is it. This is the beginning of it all. This is, well, this is as impressive as the blood test, he thinks, for him at least. Not for the family perhaps, but man, for this. This is about Toby for once.

He adds Emmett to his contacts in his Blackberry and thinks about giving him a contact picture, but thinks better of it. There's still time for that.

 _Great_ ¸ he texts back, one of his favorite words now. _I'll let you know._

Great, he thinks, looks up at the screen of his laptop, phone still in his hands, small smile on his lips. _Great_ , he thinks, and does the sign, because he can, because he knows how to.

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually my first fic of the three I wrote, and it was so much fun. I miss those boys.


End file.
